


Darwinism

by Cheloya



Series: Dissonance [3]
Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:45:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheloya/pseuds/Cheloya
Summary: Old, imported. Count D pays a visit to his grandfather, and meets the next in their line.





	Darwinism

Vesca is in the front room trying to decipher a dried and faded scroll when around him, the pets still. A customer? Vesca glances around him, waiting for Grandfather to appear, as he usually does, whenever a customer enters the petshop. But Grandfather does not materialise, and the door opens and closes almost silently, and for a moment Vesca thinks that it _is_ Grandfather, returning from a bakery or a sweet shop.

But then the customer turns, and stares at Vesca for a moment in something like surprise. His left eye is violet – for a moment, Vesca’s heart jumps to his throat – but his right eye is Grandfather’s cool amber, though it is mostly veiled with carefully parted hair. The stranger watches him for a moment, and then his brow furrows delicately. There is a lump in Vesca’s throat, preventing him from welcoming the stranger, promising that Grandfather will be with him in a moment; the stranger speaks first:

“Why do you weep, child?”

Vesca blinks and discovers, yes, there are tears in his eyes, and they run down his cheeks as the motion of his eyelids disturbs them. He touches his face with his hands, wondering, and finally manages to say, “I don’t know.”

The stranger’s brow furrows more deeply for a moment, and then his expression clears, as though he understands. Vesca doesn’t, but he cannot speak again; the stranger is smiling gently, and stepping past the lounge generally used by customers to stand beside Vesca, and Vesca’s hands are rising of their own accord to take the stranger’s when they are held out for him to take. His flesh is cool like Grandfather’s. Vesca feels his own tears as hot lines down his face, and his breath shudders painfully for a moment, before some crushing, explosive emotion moves out of his mind’s reach and frees up his lungs.

“I do not believe we have been properly introduced,” the stranger murmurs. “I am Count D. The third,” he adds with a smile, when Vesca opens his mouth to object.

“I’m Vesca,” Vesca tells Count D, and D’s hands tighten on his for a moment. “What?”

D eyes him carefully. Slowly, he sits. He does not release Vesca’s hands. “The name my grandfather chose for you is fitting. Though...” A small smile curves his lips, like Grandfather’s, but warmer, and a little more bitter. “I suppose he has not explained its meaning.”

Vesca shakes his head slowly. Grandfather has never mentioned it. But D only nods; he does not offer anything else, and Vesca supposes this is just another item on a long list of things he must work out for himself. He moves on. “Did you come to talk to Grandfather?”

D smiles. “I would much rather speak to you,” he says, and Vesca is choked, he is doubled over, there is a pain in his chest, in his heart, and the tears are running down his face as though there is a pipe in him that has burst, and he only realises when his fingers start to ache that his hands have closed on D’s hands like claws—

“Sorry,” he gasps, throat tight, and tries to let go. He cannot. His fingers are not his own. He does not understand, but it seems that D does; he tugs Vesca forward and strokes his hair as Vesca’s body clenches and shakes without his consent.

“I came because I have been caught, at last,” D says, once the tears that are not Vesca’s have subsided. “Grandfather will be...” a quick breath “...furious. But there is only so much pain that I can bear. You understand that, do you not?”

Someone that is not Vesca compresses D’s free hand with both of his own, and Count D looks downward and smiles through a sheen of tears.

“I was certain you would.”

* * *

Grandfather emerges after Count D has taken his leave, both hands clasped before him. His lips are pressed into pale lines; his hands are trembling.

“Count D visited,” Vesca tells him, though he is certain that Grandfather already knows. “The third,” he adds, conscientiously. “He said he had been... caught?” It seems important.

Grandfather bows his head, and turns his face away.

“I did not want to hear.”


End file.
